Yielding to love

or Be careful what you wish for

A couple of weeks ago, at the invitation of one of the ordinands, I attended the ordination ceremony of the Interfaith Foundation. My late husband and I were ordained in 2010 but I hadn't attended the annual ceremony in person since he'd died.  As we sang the ordinands into the hall, my personal vow made 14 years ago, filled my heart, rose into my throat and flowed from my eyes as tears. I had vowed very simply: “I yield to Love”, Love being my word for God which, I am told, is better translated from the Aramaic Jesus spoke as, “The cosmos within which we are enmeshed and which gives us life.” Yes, to that I would yield.

Pivoting

I had thought my life changed 2 years later in 2012 with a kiss -  'the' kiss as I think of it now. In the sense that it was a pivotal moment, where my life veered off on a different tangent, that's true. But for 2 years I had, unbeknown to me, been loved silently. For 2 years my trust, respect and affection for this same man had grown. With his confession, the lid came off my passion and still we held back. Then, one twilight evening, side by side on a wooden bench, came 'the kiss'.

What happened for me was that true love shone a light on the inauthenticity of my current relationship and the fact that I was out of integrity within it. I finally yielded to my impulse of many years, to leave it. With only what I could carry in my car – duvet, favourite mug, candle, books, patient files and enough clothes for a Scottish winter – I left my relationship, home, work and friends and drove 600 miles to the north of Scotland to take up a position as manager of a lodge within the Findhorn Community. Alone. But accompanied by a love which said, “Fly my Queen, fly.”

Surrendering

As things unfolded, my beloved man and I did become a partnership and we very sincerely offered our relationship to the greater Love we knew we had the privilege of tasting through each other. What fine ideas we had of the work we would do together: the retreats and workshops we might lead, the love we might share. But the thing about 'surrendering' something, is that you cannot demand what it looks like when the surrender has happened. Although yes, there were  a few retreats and yes, we did turn outwards with our love and not just inwards towards each other, what surrender looked like for us was that an accident, ill health, unemployment and homelessness, demons, fears and unforgiven issues from our past, all came to call. (Rumi's poem, The Guest House, springs to mind.) When at last, after some years in bewilderment, we settled in our own home on the edge of Dartmoor, my beautiful man was diagnosed with a terminal brain tumour.

Accompanying

Standing in the hall, singing as the ordinands processed in, I knew the power of my vow. The love we had shared, the Love I had yielded to, accompanied my husband into his death and I know, Love forgave his past, Love didn't turn away from his demons, Love didn't collapse in the face of fear. Love might have looked like camping by his side for months and waking in the night to give him the care he needed; it might have looked like explaining all of his medication every single time because his memory was shot, and keeping checks on his fluid intake and output; but Love said,

“My darling one I am here, I will never leave you. Nothing you can do or say will eradicate this love or send me away”.

My husband died, knowing he was deeply loved and that the cosmos had used a woman's heart to let him know his innocence and beauty.

And then I was alone again, this time apparently unaccompanied by love. Yet, quietly, Love has touched the tears on my face, breathed life into a heart which hurt with every breath, whispered in my ear, “Keep loving.” I was the walking wounded for a long time but Love, like the river I walk beside each day, is not in a hurry. Over the years I have come to understand that the Love we shared, the Love we yielded to, is accompanying me into the rest of my life. It's not impersonal, it was, at least at first, mediated through the heart of a man who let me know my innocence and beauty.

“I yield to Love”, I had said in 2010 and Life, since that day, has held me to it. I have no reason to believe it won't continue to do so. What will that look like? I have no idea – that's the thing about surrender, after all. But sometimes, just sometimes, I feel the wind beneath my wings. Am I flying?

With my love

Nickie

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Resources

I have added a list of books which I - and others - have found useful along this journey (if you have some to recommend, do please write to me here). You will find them on the resources page of the website.

If you haven't already done so, please do listen to some of the 5 podcasts I have made with Liz Scott. I would very much appreciate feedback. If enough people would like to get comfortable having conversations with people who are dying or grieving, we may dream up a course together. Please be in touch.